The Enigma Emerges
by nKolundzic97
Summary: NOLANVERSE STORY, POST TDKR. Its been 5 years since the destruction caused by Bane,but a recuperating Gotham is slowly beginning to find its feet once more. It has become a safer place with rumours of Batman's mantle being taken up by a 'boy wonder.' However, the boy may be forced to become a man after Gotham is left with a question that it simply may not be able to answer...
1. 1

**1**

The towering steel doors slowly parted to allow her into the reception of the isolated building, which seemed almost as deserted and desolate as it had looked before she made her journey up the long, winding gravel path in order to finally enter the stone compound. She heard the steel doors slam together, and its loud yet dark, mechanical whirring looked to be the only thing that was illuminating the silent room.

The woman was dressed in a black blazer which was covering a white shirt and her thin, sleek legs had been concealed beneath a straight, red skirt which almost met knee-high black heels. Her blonde hair was tied behind her head, revealing large, brown eyes and a small nose centred perfectly halfway down her face. Her body was attractively long and curvaceous, features which would tease men into trusting and falling in love with her almost instantly. She wasn't a very tall woman, yet her presence had ultimately been noted as she briskly walked through the room to a large, wooden desk littered with irrelevant stacks of paper, a small computer with the detached keyboard lying unused several centimetres away and an old-fashioned, musty-green telephone also accompanied a couple of pens and newspapers at the helm of the desk.

The stone room also contained a few blue armchairs placed oppositely to the desk which were pale and worn-out, presumably from the amount of time they had been used without replacement-after all, this was a complex which regularly saw its inmates trade the life they had exploited and used to kill and steal for a hellacious and tormenting experience exclusively provided by the best therapists in Arkham, with the sole hope that they may eventually return to Gotham as changed and forgiven men. She noted a miniature picture resting next to the computer of a man with shoulder length hair and eyes whose red colour seemed to connect the two in a menacing way. He was dressed in a lab coat, smiling happily towards the camera.

She heard a door behind her close as a tall man with short, ginger hair and penetrating, red eyes appeared. His small, square spectacles were resting calmly on his wide ears. He was dressed in a white lab-coat which was buttoned together and fell to his knees, as his black trousers slid from underneath the coat, almost mirroring the sinister and fast movement of the man as he approached the woman confidently standing across from him. However, she quickly realised that the man who was now holding a clipboard as he picked up the pace looked very similar to the one she had previously seen in the photo.

"Good afternoon Doctor Quinzel, how was the journey?" The man outstretched a hand and smiled warmly towards her.

"It was...interesting, to say the least. Gotham has some amazing sights." She met his hand and felt his sweaty hand latch onto hers strongly.

"My name is Doctor Jeremiah Arkham; I am currently the head of this wonderful and notorious building, known as Arkham Asylum!" He chuckled, expecting a laugh in return yet was only greeted with a half smile from Doctor Quinzel.

He continued wearily, his smile and mood slowly transpiring into a darkening frown: "We are all very glad to have you with us here today, and I must say you really are our last hope.

We had to call in the best people to solve this problem because none of us can get through to him.

He has his guard up. He still doesn't trust us and remains suspicious of whatever we ask him. We needed someone who had an excellent track record, and of course, you were the obvious choice."

"I've studied the files and he is an intriguing patient, I've never been partnered with somebody who occupies such a compulsive obsession towards the mind, I find it compelling. In a way, there isn't that much difference between us and him." She paused, trying to choose the right words, and continued:

"I'm sorry to hear about the loss of Doctor Crane. "

Doctor Arkham beckoned toward the direction of the door he had came from, instigating Quinzel into a slow and relaxed walk.

"Not to worry about that, Doctor. His situation is a surprising and unprecedented one but he is in the best hands Arkham can provide. We've always looked after our own.

However, Doctor Quinzel, it's vitally important you tackle this situation slowly. I've never met somebody so gifted and intellectual. He almost tests me as much as I try to test him."

"I do love a good challenge, sir. By the end of the month I'm sure he would have told me everything we need to know, especially when I'm through with him."

Doctor Arkham stopped abruptly, looking shocked and apprehensive as his eyebrows lowered slowly, almost as if they too, needed time to come to terms with what Doctor Quinzel had just disclosed.

"You have to be vigilant. He's been here 10 years now, Doctor, and he hasn't told us a thing.

He hasn't opened up to us at all, in fact. I know no more about him now than when I did all those years ago when we first accepted him.

I still don't know why he did what he did, and why he chose to do it in such a disgusting and despicable way."

His voice lowered quietly, almost as if he was in complete fear of even speaking about the patient she had been desperately called in to help just a few weeks ago.

"However, I do know that he is a dangerous man, Mrs Quinzel."

Doctor Quinzel stopped and did her best to formulate a positive smile in response:

"Like I said, Mr Arkham, I've studied the files. I knew what I was taking on when I accepted this job."

They proceeded through a small brown door, making their way towards a large room, filled with a few people all dressed in the similar attire of a white lab-coat. A few of them nodded to her as Doctor Arkham gestured towards a rectangular but sealed window, revealing a small part of the bright room which stood directly next to this one.

The window was large enough to see a small metal table which was host to a black tape recorder, 2 cups which Quinzel presumed had coffee in them and 2 metal chairs which were either side of the table. There were no windows in the room apart from this one, and the red bricks lined together didn't even attempt to make the room look appealing in the slightest. Quinzel took the clipboard from Doctor Arkham, and extracted a pen from behind her ear. She smiled, and opened the door which led into the other room.

She heard Doctor Arkham's voice, which had become even more hushed and softer than before:

"Please, Doctor Quinzel...I implore you..." Doctor Arkham warned.

"To be careful."

Doctor Quinzel recognised the same frown she had seen earlier, and even though the room was extremely dark and bustling with whispers from surrounding doctors studying the empty room, Jeremiah Arkham's strained and worried facial features were the most visible of it all.

She reluctantly entered the room, but what she hadn't seen was a tall man dressed in an orange and white striped pyjama standing out of view of the window, resting against the brick wall towards the back of the small room.

He wasn't very large or muscular, but he had been the first thing Quinzel had been attracted to, regardless of the loud fan generating cold air into the claustrophobic room.

His hands were hidden in his pockets and his long legs were strong and upright, supporting the body which hosted his famous and ingenious brain.

His dirty, brown hair had been slicked back and Quinzel could just about recognise miniscule pieces of dirt lodged in his messy hair. His right eyebrow was arched at a small angle, as if it had been stuck in a procession of thought upon the arrival of the unfamiliar doctor standing stiffly opposite him.

He had green eyes which pierced directly through hers. His mouth curled upwards into a crooked and ominous smile, almost as if it had completed the final piece of the puzzle which was awaiting her.

***Reviews are welcomed, appreciated and encouraged. This is my first story and all feedback is appreciated. Thank you.***


	2. 2

2

Doctor Quinzel approached the rectangular desk situated in the centre of the interview room and threw her clipboard down on the table, desperately trying to avoid the icy glare of the infamous criminal standing across her. She began fiddling with the tape recorder, pressing numerous buttons to break the awkward silence which was slowly beginning to invade the room. She shot a glance towards him and noticed his eyes were still fixated on her, the same way a hungry lion deprived of food for some time gapes at a teasing piece of meat. She withdrew the chair from beneath her, and grudgingly sat down, using a shaky arm to signal towards the chair opposite to hers and summon her patient for questioning. He hadn't moved.

"Are we ready to start this interview?" Doctor Quinzel raised her head slightly, meeting his cold stare for a second before she pulled away, refusing to make eye contact. She could feel him measuring her, calculating and deriving any weaknesses he could find from the few movements she had made so far as she entered the undersized room - after all, his extraordinary mind wasn't a secret amongst Arkham by any stretch of the imagination.

She released a long, condescending sigh, cleared her throat and pressed a button on the tape recorder.

"Patient number: 2148. Patient name: Edward Nygma. The date is 23rd July, 2017. The person taking this interview is Doctor Harleen Quinzel, of Arkham Asylum. Should we begin, Mr Nygma?"

Edward Nygma pulled his right hand out of his pocket and began scratching his face, the stubble underneath his mouth hissing furiously as it met a sharp, dirty fingernail.

"By all means, Doctor Quinzel." The corners of his mouth curled upwards again, the sinister smile on his face returning once more. His voice was quiet and cold, and Quinzel was barely able to make out what he was saying as he moved towards the old desk.

He pulled a chair out from its shelter beneath the desk as it screeched loudly, the only sound that was enlightening the hushed room and sat down, his green eyes watching her clipboard intently.

"I thought we would begin by talking about your 4 suicide attempts, in just one week."

"What is there to address, Doctor? Should we start by talking about my problems? Perhaps why I tried to plunge a makeshift knife into the middle of my abdomen? Or maybe why I used my uniform in a sordid attempt to hang myself, only to have the lone and unreliable light above me unfortunately break? " He spoke very slowly before he chuckled loudly, his eyes glinting as he thought about the happy prospect of taking his own life.

"Mr Nygma, you have an extrem-"

He interrupted her suddenly, his icy voice lowering even further:

"Edward will suffice, Doctor." Doctor Quinzel bared her white teeth as she smiled hurriedly and nodded, accepting Edward's invitation to speak on a more personal basis. She had been in this field a long time, and knew she was making rapid progress in establishing a vital connection with her most confusing patient to date.

"As I was saying, Edward, you have an extremely intelligent and interesting mind. Someone of your intellect should know better than to resort to suicide to help solve their problems."

"Without meaning to sound rude Doctor, but if I really had this intelligent or interesting mind you seem to claim I have, I wouldn't have been locked up in this hell-hole for the past 10 years."

"The others seem to think differently. I would even go as far to say they're intimidated by you, from what I've heard."

"Of course they're intimidated by me, Doctor. They're not intimidated by my size, or strength. They're scared of something else, something much...more...frightening.

My mind." His face lit up with a sadistic smile as he suddenly slammed his palms on the table and leaned over towards her, until his pointy nose and face almost met hers. His expression quickly changed as his eyes darted around the various, good-looking features of her face, his mouth developing into an angry frown as his thin eyebrows slid down his filthy face.

"And you're always afraid of what you don't understand!" His voice grew louder through clenched teeth, his eyes locking with hers temporarily before she turned her head away, closing her eyes and praying he had vacated her cherished personal space. His breath stunk, its foul odour piercing her nostrils as he spoke menacingly.

"They think by bringing in all these different doctors, all these so-called 'specialists,' like yourself – it will help them comprehend the bigger picture. It won't. We're not that different, me, you, Jeremiah Arkham, we all share a love and passion for the mind.

Except the only disparity between us, Doctor, is that I have already realised the mind cannot be understood or rationalised with; it can only be developed!" He spat furiously at her, his mood completely having been transformed without any significant factor or reason.

"What are you talking about?" She replied hesitantly.

"The suicides weren't designed to end my life; they were simply designed to prolong it. In a place such as this, limited with opportunities to preserve the mind, the only chance we have of extending our reasoning and logic is by testing ourselves, and I gladly found out the body breaks before the mind, which is why the brain is stronger, and much more threatening."

"You're insane." Doctor Quinzel replied, her body shaking again as she came to terms with the impossible task she'd been given. He belonged in this wasteland, at the heart of a broken city with little to no hope left. His interpretation of suicide was unbelievable, justifying the horrible acts as the only means available of stretching himself and his amazing brain.

She watched the man opposite her-he was leaning backward into his chair, his body language completely open with one arm extended over the top of the rocking chair. He was smiling at her, enjoying and basking in the confusion he had created. The starving lion she had seen before when she scoured the room had successfully drawn first blood. She composed herself, before she looked over the lengthy notes she had gathered so far.

"I'm not insane, Doctor. Declaring someone as insane implies they have lost control of either their mind or body, and I am very much in power over both." His eyes were much larger now, seemingly offended by Doctor Quinzel's allegation regarding his sanity. The veins in his neck were pulsing as he examined her for a second time, his brain analysing and formulating a different point of attack.

"Well then, a man of your brilliance and unparalleled judgement would surely be able to escape a place like this? It's one especially known for even having some of its most brainless inmates find their way find out. If they can do it, why can't you?"

Edward abruptly stopped rocking on his chair and leaned forward, and sneered:

"I don't know Doctor, I haven't tried yet." Doctor Quinzel gulped as she broke away from his smug gaze and flicked through her notes.

"Very well. I want to tackle another problem you seem to have, Edward. Where has your unhealthy obsession with the mind come from?"

Edward clasped his hands together and laid them on the table, staring at his uncut fingernails and the muddy patches stained on his hand.

"Would you agree with me when I say the brain is the most important part of the body?"

"One of the mo-" He interrupted her and raised an eyebrow, almost hinting of his disappointment at the Doctor's answer.

"THE most important." He stood up and circled the table, drawing near Doctor Quinzel. He ran a hand through his hair until he was standing right behind her. He lowered his face until it was directly parallel to hers, and he whispered into her ear:

"Granted, you take the heart out of a man, and the brain doesn't function for long. However, if you remove the brain out of a body, the heart doesn't know how to function at all." He elevated his head and continued to surround the table, inspecting the walls around him.

"You know something? These bricks are very analogous to you, Doctor."

"In what way?"

"They are the core of this building, located at the heart of the asylum. They are strong, dependable and I would even say trustworthy. In fact, those are the words I would use to describe you."

"Really?" She couldn't work out whether the madman standing before her was genuinely paying her a rare compliment.

"Except the thing about you and these bricks, the trait you both share, is that you both break very easily if I just use a little..."

He turned around, his green eyes widening with pleasure and his mouth locked in a full laugh as his voice became more and more clouded as he tried to speak. His laugh was high-pitched and loud, its cackle rebounding off the building walls.

"I apologise, Doctor. My emotions got the better of me. As I was saying, you both break very easily if I just use a little force. Just a little push."

His voice deepened, it was at the perfect volume in which he could be heard with ease but one which also allowed him to keep calm. He knew the time was coming where he would have his fun, but not yet. He needed to keep on assessing the doctor, biding his time.

"Is that a threat?" Doctor Quinzel's voice became louder, her eyes beginning to flame as she eagerly anticipated an answer.

"Of course not, more of a theoretical observation."

"It definitely sounded like one." She stood up, throwing her chair against the desk. She stopped the tape recorder and walked towards him, cornering him against the wall.

"Actually Edward, why don't we make this a much more pleasurable experience?" Her voice became louder as she took her blazer off and hurled it onto the chair he was previously sitting on during their time together.

"Why don't we talk about your messed up childhood?"

Edward's face glowered as he clicked his neck. She could see his tongue rolling around his mouth, his face throbbing at the turn the discomfited conversation was taking.

"This interview is over, Doctor."

He began to walk away as Doctor Quinzel leant against the wall, her stance a much more casual one now. She had him exactly where she wanted him. She had found his Achilles heel, the Modus Operandi she would take the next time she saw him.

"Not by my watch. What about your fath-"

Edward turned around and stepped towards her quickly as he drove his palm against the wall, narrowly missing her face. He was breathing heavily and his mouth was contorted as his eyes scurried hers. His voice was soft and husky as he rubbed his sweaty neck.

"I said, this interview is over."

All of a sudden, 3 guards dressed in black suits stormed the room, grabbing him and swiftly restraining him against the floor. He grunted, but didn't say anything else. He allowed the guards to bolt his hands together as he curled his head upwards.

He watched Doctor Quinzel leave with her clipboard and tape she'd extracted from the tape recorder a moment ago. He saw her hand shaking vigorously and her hair was messy, a large clump of it had fallen out of the neat ponytail she'd fastened beforehand.

No-one had ever had the audacity to bring up his childhood, and the suffering he was forced to endure during it.

He decided that the next, inauspicious time he saw Doctor Quinzel; it would be him asking the questions instead of her.


End file.
